


An Orpheus Tale

by TheRealSokka



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Bringing your sister back to Life, Canon Compliant, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-06-22 06:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15576111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealSokka/pseuds/TheRealSokka
Summary: Nico di Angelo went into the underworld to find his sister again. He wound up meeting a child of Pluto, instead.Together, they might just be able to help each other.





	1. A Call and an Answer

The grave was shallow.

Clawed and dug into the black earth by bony hands, it was barely more than a small hole in the ground; not even large enough for a child. Here in the hard soil of the underworld, it was the best he could do.

Even though his every being rebelled against it, Nico di Angelo didn’t have the time to do it properly. As soon as his skeletal servants were done, he had them step away and threw his offerings into the pit: a couple of pomegranate seeds and an amphora of Lemnian wine. It was by no means a proper meal, even for the dead, but he hadn’t managed to scrape up any better from his father’s palace. It would have to do. He stepped up to the edge. “Bianca di Angelo!” he called out. “Show yourself!” His voice only cracked slightly.

The ghosts of Asphodel all around him shifted restlessly. A few moved to try and reach for the food, but none of them was who he’d called for and his Spartan skeletons blocked them from entering the pit. Most others remained in apathy – or in waiting whether someone would answer the call.

The minutes stretched out torturously. Time passed differently down here, but Nico knew exactly how long it had been by the fast rhythm of his heartbeat as he stared into the void. He was beginning to grow desperate with waiting. He had searched and called for his sister throughout the underworld, but his voice had faded, unheard, every time. Bianca didn’t answer.

In some distant part of his heart that he yet refused to accept, Nico already knew what that meant. Bianca wasn’t here anymore. She had moved on. And he should have been happy for her, but instead all he felt were the cold tears falling down his face. Down here, where only the ghosts of the dead could see him, he allowed himself to cry, finally.

He’d needed her. He knew it was selfish, but he needed somebody to talk to. With Bianca gone, he was now truly alone – with his loss, and with his stupid, stupid feelings, which should have long faded by now, but hadn’t.

“You can always come back to Camp. You have a home here.” Annabeth Chase had told him after the Battle of Manhattan. Standing there, smiling at him encouragingly. With Percy by her side.

 _Sure. A home. As if that would ever work_.

But he had a home now, Nico thought defiantly. In the world of the living, there was no place for him, so he’d be with the dead. He was good at dealing with them; they were so much easier to talk to than the people above. He didn’t need anyone else. The Ghost King was himself enough.

He was abruptly taken out of his thoughts when, in the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure move towards the grave. This ghost was different than the others. It was brighter and more formed than those around it, and it seemed to be moving with purpose. In the twisting grey mist, Nico thought he saw the outline of a girl.

His skeletal minions moved to stop her, keeping her away from the offerings. “Wait!” Nico called them back. His heart was beating faster with a tiny sliver of hope. He hastily wiped away the traces of tears from his cheeks. “Let her pass!”

The ghost seemed to be looking at him. She knelt down in the pit and reached for the pomegranates.

When she stood up again, she was a girl with long, auburn hair, golden eyes and a sad smile. She was about Nico’s age. Her loose, dirty clothes looked like they didn’t belong in the 21st century.

“Bianca?” Nico asked hoarsely.

He reached out, trembling, but his hand passed right through her. Of course it did.

The girl shook her head sadly. She didn’t look at all like Bianca di Angelo. “I’m sorry; I’m not the one you are looking for. She is gone; she chose rebirth. I’m Hazel.”

Nico’s hand fell limply back to his side. His heart sank from its momentary elation. It was quickly replaced by anger. “Then why did you take my offering?!” he demanded to know. The fury in his tone made the ghost around them shrink back a pace.

The girl – Hazel – lowered her eyes. “I thought you needed to hear it. I’ve heard your call for so long.” Her eyes flicked back up to him. “I’m sorry.”

How could he have ever mistaken her for Bianca? Her face was all wrong; there was nothing of that intelligence his sister had possessed, or of her annoying confidence. “You don’t know anything about my sister.” Nico said harshly. “Don’t claim to know what happened to her!”

“I – I felt her leave. I was a daughter of Pluto. When a child of the underworld comes or goes, I know.” Her eyes held a deep sadness – like Bianca, the last time she spoke to him. She seemed to be looking through him with those eyes, almost like she understood what was going on inside him. “Like you. I’m sorry for your sister.”

“We’re nothing alike.” Nico turned his back to the grave, blinking back more tears. He was furious at himself for even listening to this. “Go away. I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anyone.”

Her voice still reached him. It was quiet, uncertain, but still stronger than any ghost’s had a right to be. “Whoever, you are; I don’t believe that’s true. We children of Pluto always need – someone. I – I didn’t have anyone, by the end. Me and my mother, we died alone.” There was a moment’s silence. Then; “Please, don’t be alone.”

Nico spun around. “Leave!”

At his cry, the nearest ghosts vaporized into mist and the skeletons fell apart where they stood, feeling themselves included in their master’s command. Nico let himself fall to the ground, suddenly robbed of all energy. When he looked up again, the grave was empty. The girl was gone.

How could he have ever mistaken her for Bianca? His sister was unique, beautiful, and forever twelve. And now she was gone. Deep in his heart, he knew that was the truth.

She had left him again.

After a long time, Nico struggled to his feet and started to move. The ghosts soundlessly made way for him as he passed. Perhaps they sensed the anger bubbling just beneath his surface. Good for them.

Nico forced his thoughts away from his sister, blocked out the entire conversation with that stupid half-blood girl who claimed to be related to him. He just focused on setting one foot in front of the other. He’d go to Hades’ palace. He’d been away a long time; the god had to be wondering what his son was doing. Or, perhaps not. Perhaps he didn’t care. Either way; he’d have something for Nico to do. He always did.

At least he could be useful, Nico thought as he left the Fields of Asphodel. He had no intention of ever coming back here.


	2. Under the Poplar Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico could not explain his actions, even to himself.
> 
> His father graced him with smiles, his command over the dead grew stronger, and in general Nico was good at what he was doing. He had found the place for himself, finally.  
> So why, exactly, did he one day find himself back in Asphodel, searching for the girl that wasn’t Bianca?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. Excuse Nico for the moment. Proper sibling stuff will follow eventually.

In the following weeks, Nico was very successful in not thinking about the girl. As expected, his father kept him busy running errands in both worlds, leaving his thoughts barely any time to stray to the foolish quest that had brought him to Asphodel in the first place. If Hades knew about it, he never brought it up, either. The lord of the underworld was more lively than Nico had ever seen him – though perhaps that was a poor choice of words. _Busy_ was perhaps more appropriate. There was a lot to do, now that the Olympians had somewhat accepted him among them again.

“We’ll see how long that lasts.” he told Nico in an unusually forthcoming, quiet moment after they left Olympus. “Sooner or later they always find something to blame on me. The gods, and people, are so changeable. You’re doing very well to keep a certain distance from them.” Hades clasped his shoulder appreciatively.

Nico felt as rush of pride, as always when his father bestowed one of his rare compliments. Hades was a lot less irascible since Kronos’ defeat, and every now and then he would actually let on that he valued Nico and his talents.  That was more than the young demigod had ever received before, so he made sure not to disappoint his father. He spent most of his time travelling, never staying anywhere for long; especially not at the Camp. He came, did what he was meant to do, and left again, without so much as catching a glimpse of Percy or the others. Which was a good thing. Really. Nico was feeling good. In a way, he became Hades’ personal ambassador, the one the god of the underworld had always wanted: loyal to him, with a foot in the door to both Olympus and Camp Half-Blood, but not really attached to anyone there who might divide his loyalties.

His father graced him with smiles, his command over the dead grew stronger, and in general Nico was good at what he was doing. He had found the place for himself, finally.

So why, exactly, did he one day find himself back in Asphodel, searching for the girl that wasn’t Bianca?

* * *

 

He honestly did not know how he found her again among the billions of souls that filled the plain. Her ghost was just a little stronger than those around her, but even with Nico’s attuned senses, that was impossible to see until he suddenly stood right in front of her. It was as if an invisible string had pulled him right to this point.

He looked at the ghost for a long moment. Then he began to dig a new grave.

This time, it took a lot longer before Hazel approached his offering. When finally she did and her features were fully formed, her face wore a look of surprise.

“Did you really call for me?”

“Yes.” Nico replied, trying and failing to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“I thought you’d never want to speak to me again.”

“I didn’t, either.”

“Then why?”

Nico shuffled his feet. _Why?_ “I don’t know.” he finally breathed, frustrated.

“Oh.”

“You – you said you were a daughter of Pluto?”

Her dead, golden eyes flickered with emotion. “Pluto.” she repeated. “Yes.” Nico couldn’t quite discern the tone of her voice. Perhaps it was resentment.

“Not Hades?” he pushed further.

“Does it matter?”

Nico didn’t know. He wasn’t sure how different the Roman aspect of his father was to his Greek one, if at all. This entire duality principle was very confusing to him. For his part, he had only ever spoken to Hades.

And anyway; he was more interested in Hazel herself.

“When are you from?” he blurted out.

Hazel visibly didn’t know what to make of his questions. But she was bound to answer him. “I died in 1942.”

 _Before we were sent to the casino. We might have met_.

“I was born back then, too.” he confessed.

The girl cocked her head, looking him once over. “But then – how are you here? You’re alive.”

Nico scratched his neck. “That’s a longer story.” He didn’t particularly feel like telling it. But at the same time, he did want to keep talking to her. Even with all the uncertainty what he was doing here; he for some reason felt more at home than he ever did with other ghosts – or, gods forbid, other people. Perhaps it had something to do with her being just as out of time as he was.

That’s when a thought crossed his mind: she was a child of Hades; just like him. _She doesn’t look older than thirteen_ … The prophecy of the Big Three could well have applied to her, too.  

“How did you die?” he asked curiously.

Pain flashed across her face. “We were buried alive.”

“You and your mom?” He remembered that.

Her eyes searched his. “Why do you want to know? Why do you care about me?

“I don’t know.” Nico repeated, and it was the truth. All he knew was that he didn’t want her to go yet. “Please, can we just – talk?”

Hazel seemed surprised at that. Then, for the first time, she smiled a small, hesitant smile. She nodded shyly. “I’d like that. It’s been so long since I really talked to somebody.”

“Same.” Nico replied.

* * *

 

Talking to Hazel was strange. She was utterly unlike the ghosts he usually summoned. It couldn’t be compared to talking to other demigods, either. A child of the 1940s, Hazel didn’t understand a lot of what he was saying, but picked up on other things; little things that normal people ignored.

“ _You_ played Mythomagic? Really?”

Nico blinked. Somehow, in those first few hesitant exchanges, she had gotten him to talk about what he liked, and his tongue had run away with him. And he hadn’t really expected a response. “You know it?”

Hazel shrugged her pale shoulders. “Some boys at school played it sometimes. I was never allowed to join in.”

“It’s a great game!” Nico’s twelve year old self blurted out, before his grown-up side could stop it. He blushed up to his hair roots. “Ahem; I mean; why weren’t you allowed?”

“I didn’t have that many friends.” She paused, then corrected herself: “Forget that; I had no friends. People stay – _stayed_ away from me. They called me a witch.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Hazel’s expression flickered. It was a strange mix of amusement and bitterness. “I wish I were. Maybe I would have turned some of them into toads. No; it’s because of my – curse. It’s – I attract riches, like a magnet.”

“Excuse me?”

“Gemstones, gold, diamonds. They appear wherever I go.”

“You can summon _diamonds_?” Nico repeated, impressed. While that was part of his father’s sphere of influence, he himself had never managed it. He was better with the dead.

“It’s not as great as it sounds.”

“But why would that – you said that was a curse…?”

At his inquisitive look, the dead girl lowered her eyes. She looked like the memories pained her to think about. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

She looked like Bianca; when she had begged him not to summon her anymore.

“Uh; okay. If you want.” Nico retreated. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “What do you want to talk about?”

 _What am I even doing here? ,_ he questioned himself, more than once.

He still had no answer to that,

 _But it’s nice to talk to somebody again_ , another part of him insisted.

Two things he learned in those first few minutes of talking to his half-sister. One; she spoke about a lot of things in the present, like they had only just happened. Nico had met ghosts before who didn’t know they were dead; and though Hazel luckily wasn’t that, she seemed to still cling to life a lot more than normal for one who had been dead for so long. Perhaps that was why Nico felt so drawn to her.

And two; most of the memories of her own life seemed to pain her. She avoided the subject of her mother, and refused to talk more of her fascinating diamond-power, too. Nico didn’t press her, even though, to his surprise, he found that he actually wanted to know more about her. He had to hold back and remind himself not to ask her too many questions; since, as a summoned ghost, she would have been compelled to answer.

Nevertheless, they ended up talking for a long time.

Because Hazel, on her part, wanted to know about the world she’d left. About the magical part, in particular. It quickly turned out she only knew a bit about the gods, very little about Olympus, and nothing of Camp Half-Blood. She’d met her father exactly once, and from how she told it, Pluto wasn’t any more forthcoming than Hades. Most of what she knew about the mythological world was what little she had gleaned from the ghosts around her.

Nico was more than happy to explain this world to her, especially since it was on such an abstract level that it didn’t really involve him, personally. There was a curious kind of wonder that appeared on Hazel’s face during some of the myths and legends he told her, and it brought him back to the time at the Lotus Casino, when he discovered the world of Mythomagic – and then later, when he learned the legends were real. The side effect was that, occasionally, he noticed his explanations slipping off into the realm of the card game, and he would break off in embarrassment. He wasn’t twelve anymore, for Hades’ sake!

Hazel didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t mind. Everything was new to her, her curiosity evident. But her questions, when she asked them, were shy, as if she hadn’t quite grasped yet that she was allowed to ask them. Her mother hadn’t allowed her, she confessed after a while.

“Didn’t she tell you your father was a god?” Nico inquired.

A trace of bitterness crossed the girl’s lips. “Only that he was the reason for everything that was wrong with our lives. I gathered the god part myself, eventually. I just don’t…” she broke off, frustrated. “It wasn’t really all his fault; I understand that. But – if he’s a god; why couldn’t he make everything better?”

Wasn’t that a familiar question?

“Being a god doesn’t mean they’re all-powerful. They can’t always take direct influence.” That was the safest answer, and the ones the gods themselves usually used in their defence. It sounded like a platitude, now that Nico had to say it out loud. He sensed there was a lot of grief in Hazel’s past; it was evident in everything she told him and in everything she didn’t. ‘The gods want to help but can’t’ didn’t really seem a like a suitable explanation for whatever had happened to her.

“He gave me a sketchpad. And pencils.” Hazel’s voice interrupted his thoughts. She was looking at him with a helpless expression. “Is that what gods normally do?”

 _Can’t say he ever gave anything to me_ , Nico thought. But the picture of _Hades_ , the lord of the underworld, handing a set of pencils to a little Hazel was so absurd that it puzzled him beyond the point of even thinking to be jealous. “Why would he do that?”

“Well; I don’t know! He knew I liked art and horseback riding, so he gave me the art. His words, not mine.”

Nico rubbed his temples. Trying to explain a god’s actions could give you a headache at the best of times, and applying the concept of logic to Hades in particular was the equivalent of trying to use Latin to explain math. Except that that suggested that the god followed a set of clear rules. Nico decided not to even attempt it right now. “So; art and horses?” he moved back into safer territory.

Hazel brightened up. Her eyes gleamed with a lively spark that surprised Nico. Everything else about her past had been accompanied by sadness. “Yes. I love riding.”

“Never tried it.”

She smiled: “You should. It’s the best; I didn’t have to worry so much when I was riding. I used to go often, with Sammy…”

She trailed off. A cloud seemed to cast over her face and she pressed her eyes shut. Nico didn’t inquire. He felt like he was stirring up a lot of memories for her, and it didn’t seem to be a good thing.

But that wasn’t the reason for the sudden queasiness in Nico’s gut. No; it was because that look on Hazel’s face when she’d mentioned the name – it was the absurd mix of _sad-happy_ that Nico always felt when he thought about a certain other demigod.

Hazel didn’t offer to talk any more. Nico didn’t feel like it, either. He leaned back against the poplar tree they were sitting under and gave in to the memories, letting them wash over him like a cooling flood.

Some of them were happy; others not; most hurt. And they always kept coming back to two familiar faces. One was gone; the other forever out of reach. Nico bit on his lower lip until he tasted iron. He glanced at the ghostly girl by his side. Why did children of the underworld always have it this difficult with the living?

 His stupid emotions were still there. They hadn’t faded.

At some point, Nico noticed a shadow in front of them that wasn’t cast by a ghost. He looked up to see a winged creature hover above them a little distance away. The fury Alecto had tilted her wrinkled head to the side, watching him curiously with her beady black eyes.

Nico stood. “I have to go.” he told Hazel.

She looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t identify.

“Will you come back?”

_Would he?_

Nico was torn. In truth, he hadn’t planned on it. Perhaps a part of him had only come back to reaffirm that Hazel was completely unlike Bianca; that he had no connection, or obligation, to her. So that he didn’t have to think about her anymore.

And that part was certainly proven right: Hazel didn’t share his sister’s looks in the slightest, nor her easy smiles or bossy attitude. Most strikingly, she lacked that otherworldly glow that had surrounded Bianca since she’d joined the hunters of Artemis. The only hint that she and Nico might be related were the sharp lines of her face, and her eyes, which, though golden instead of black, had a hint of Hades’ flinty spark in them. Other than that, Nico might have passed her on the street and wouldn’t have looked twice.

So, no; Hazel was nothing to him.

But then she would start to speak, and Nico would hear the deep loss in her voice. And, underneath it, the fierce stubbornness and energy that still clung to a life she hadn’t had time to live. And Nico would feel the exterior of the son of Hades starting to slip away, replaced by a twelve year old boy who just wanted his sister to come back.

“Yeah. I will.” he said, more to himself than to the girl beside him.


	3. Laughter and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico discovers that it can be nice to make somebody happy. Hazel's past shows a tedency of coming part with force.

 

The next time Nico summoned her, the grave was dug out properly; the offerings a lot more substantial.

“Is that –“ Hazel asked once she appeared, “- is that a Happy Meal?”

“I didn’t know what you liked.” Nico said sheepishly, rubbing his neck. “Is McDonalds alright?”

Hazel laughed suddenly; a clear, yet oddly hollow sound with her disembodied voice. “It’s nice. I didn’t know how much I missed fast food. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Nico smiled back.

“They were this one little burger place on 43rd Street.” the dead girl recalled. “They really still make these things?”

“Ahm; yes, they do. I think it’s gotten a little bigger since then.”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Hazel said “A lot has changed, hasn’t it? Up there?”

“Very much.” Nico agreed. “I still struggle with it, sometimes.” he admitted.

Hazel looked at him for a long moment. Then she shook her head. “I keep forgetting that we’re from the same time. You’re- well; you’re nothing like the other boys I knew.”

Nico shrugged his shoulders, not quite knowing what to say to that.

“Is the Empire State Building still there?”

Memories of last summer flashed through Nico’s mind; of the enormous battle that had taken place at the foot of the building. His father leading his army against Kronos. Percy slashing monsters left and right with his gleaming sword. A smile tucked at his mouth. “Yep. It’s still there. Just about.”

Hazel sighed. “I’ve always wanted to visit it. My mother used to dream of buying an apartment near the top, once we…” She bit her lip. “Well; I’ve never seen it.”

“I can bring you some pictures.” Nico offered. He was really not an expert on emotions, but he could see she needed some cheering up. He surprised himself with how freely he talked around her. “There actually was a big battle at the building last summer.” he told her. “Me and father and – Percy and the others, we fought the titans. They tried to overthrow the gods.”

“Titans?”

“The beings that came before the gods. Sons of Gaia and Uranus; almost as old as the world.”

“And you stopped them?” Hazel asked in awe.

“Yeah.” With a swell of pride, Nico began telling her of his (rather small) part in that final fight. His half-sister listened with bated breath – or the equivalent of that for a ghost.

“Your life sounds exciting.” she commented once he had arrived at the end.

“It can be. Tell you what.”  Nico suggested. “How about we swap stories? I tell you one from my life; you tell me one from yours.”

“There’s not that much to tell.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“If- if you say so.” Hazel’s brow scrunched up as she thought back. “Okay, uhm; I have this – _thing_.” Nico got the impression that a very different word had been on her tongue. The last time, she had called it a curse. “This thing where valuables pop up around me; you remember?”

“Hard to forget that.”

“Once I made a giant ruby pop up in the middle of school. That caused quite a stir. I managed to sneak it out before the teacher saw.”

Nico tried to imagine a giant gemstone casually popping up in the middle of Westover Hall. Then he imagined the faces of his fellow students. The image drew a chuckle from him. “Did that properly scare them?”

“Kind of.” she agreed dejectedly. “I was called a witch even before that, and that only made it worse. Except for Sammy, none of the other boys wanted to come near me.”

“I know that feeling.” Nico mumbled.

“The thing is, they still saw these valuable things pop up around me, and of course they tried to get them. It was really hard to stop that. When I did, they said I was just greedy and called me names. ‘Witch’ was one of the kinder ones.”

Nico cocked his head. “I got a few nice nicknames, too. I don’t mind them too much. Some I actually like.”

Hazel stared at him. “You like it when people call you names?”

“Hm. Most of them are so uncreative that it’s just funny. My favourite was always ‘Zombie Boy’. The boys at Westover Hall called me that a lot. Or ‘Ghost King’; that sounds proper scary.” That one was less a nickname and more a hard-earned title, but Nico wanted to keep the mood light. Hazel still looked sceptical, so he added “Think about it; the Ghost King and the witch! That sounds like an unstoppable team.”

She snorted, her lips twitching. “Or a circus attraction.”

Nico felt a strange warmth kindle in his chest. He’d never known making someone smile could feel this good. “Why not? ‘The amazing Hades Siblings’! Dancing skeletons and diamonds; where else can you get that?”

Hazel leaned forward; she was getting into it. “’The amazing Pluto Siblings’, please!”

“Pfff! If we’re doing that, you’re the junior partner at best. ‘The Ghost King and his Tag-along’!”

“Beauty and the Zombie!”

It was probably improper to laugh your heart out within a crowd of dead people. They most likely didn’t like that. There were probably rules against it.

Nico didn’t care one bit.

After they had quieted, Nico caught Hazel looking at him with an oddly vulnerable look. It had flipped from her pretty, ghostly laugh immediately into that without anything in between. It was like she was scared he would get angry at her again and leave. He’d noticed that look a couple of times now.

She didn’t know that at this point, even he’d wanted to; he didn’t think he could leave. Hard as it was to admit, he needed these conversations just as much as her, if not more.

* * *

 

At some point, Nico began to tell her of what happened in and after the Lotus Casino. Eventually, that led to Camp Half Blood. And that led to Percy Jackson.

Without him planning to, Percy began to take up most of the stories he told Hazel. But, strangely, the memories didn’t hurt as much as they usually did. For the first time, Nico found himself _smiling_ at the memories of the son of Poseidon, as he relayed them to his fascinated listener.

The pain in his chest would always return afterwards, but for those little moments at least, he could be ten again and express his awe of the older demigod without feeling guilty or wrong. Hazel always listened, and never judged. And as he began to open up, so did she.

“He reminds me of Sammy a bit.” she said after Nico told her of his encounter with Percy in the Labyrinth. “He always had a smart response for everything, too. It always got him into trouble. But out of it, too, most of the time.” The fond smile that had accompanied the memory faded slowly. Her expression turned distant and sad. “Sammy. I wonder if he ever…”

“Sammy – your friend?” Nico asked carefully. She’d mentioned him a few times; only briefly, but it was clear he was important to her.

Hazel blinked back to the here and now. She shook her head. “My best friend. He always looked out for me. And…” She smiled hesitantly.

“And…?”

“He gave me a kiss before – before we had to leave.” she finished hurriedly.

Nico nodded, turning away before his face revealed anything.

“It was my birthday.” came the almost inaudible admission from his right “The day we left New Orleans. He made me so happy.”

* * *

 

December the 18th had just come around; in the world above people were starting to decorate their houses and preparing Christmas dinners. In Camp Half Blood they would have erected the twenty foot Christmas tree by now, probably hung with all kinds of stuff you didn’t normally find on a regular ‘mortal’ Christmas tree. Down in the underworld, there was just a bare poplar tree, without any leaves or decorations; and the only company was ghosts. It was a far cry from a festive atmosphere.

But after all they weren’t celebrating Christmas; they were celebrating a birthday. And while Nico hadn’t brought any tinsel, he had managed a birthday cake.

If it was possible for a ghost, Hazel blushed. “You- you remembered?”

“Of course I remembered.” Nico replied, mock affronted. “Hey, maybe it’s seventy years too late, but so am I. Don’t hold it against me.”

“I would never. Thank you.” Hazel smiled, brightly sincerely. Happiness looked good on her. Then puzzlement sneaked into her expression. “But – why is it blue?”

“Uh, no specific reason.” Nico lied. The truth was; he was awful at baking, so he’d had to call in a little help. And if that help came in the form of a person whose specialty was blue sweets, well, no one needed to know.

It made Hazel happy, and that was what counted in the end. The dead girl was wearing a dreamy look. “Sammy always remembered, too. The last time, he gave me a cupcake for my birthday.” She smiled softly. “I think he stole it.”

Sammy again. “It sounds like he really liked you.” Nico ventured carefully, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy.

Hazel blushed. “I think he did. I liked him, too. So much. I just wish I could have been a better friend.”

Nico diverted his eyes to the blue birthday cake, staring at the single candle. He didn’t need a Sammy in his life; he’d always been better alone. That was what he told himself; forcefully, to stop himself from doing something irrational. Like getting jealous of a dead girl. He had learned to live with the sadness; but that would be one emotion too many to keep from spilling out.

A ghostly hand brushed over his arm, and he looked up. Hazel’s eyes were impossibly warm for a ghost as they caught his. Nico felt like they were looking right into him. “Do you have someone like that?” she asked quietly.

“No.” Nico managed the word without his voice cracking.

Her hand remained where it was; a light breath on his skin. Somehow elusive and steady at the same time. She held his gaze.

Nico cleared his throat. “It’s fine. I’ve got my father, and…”

“You said you didn’t need anyone anymore.” Hazel interrupted. “Did you mean that?”

One of the first things he said to her. “Yes.” Nico squared his jaw stubbornly.

“I don’t think that’s true.” Hazel said gently.

“Why?!” It came out with more force than intended. “You don’t know me.”

“Maybe not really, but… You are talking to me, and you are nice. You didn’t have to do that; you do care. And Children of Pluto should never be alone. You made me feel like I actually have a friend again …”

“That’s different. You’re easy to talk to. You’re dead.”

Hazel winced. “I know. But you need someone who is alive. Please, answer me a question: Am I the only person you’re talking to like this?”

“Like what? I talk to a lot of people. Why do you think you’re special?”

If Hazel was hurt by that, she didn’t show it. “Nico.” She rarely ever used his name. “ _I_ know you’re good and kind, and you did so much for me. I just – I want others to know that, too.” She saw him about to protest and hastily continued. “It’s just – you never talk about anyone like- like they mean something to you. Except this hero…”

“I don’t have to talk to you about everything.” Nico snapped. “It’s none of your business. And you don’t tell me all, either. What about your mother? Or your death? You keep dancing around that!”

The girl paled. “Don’t.” she whispered, suddenly frightened.

“What?! I am the only one who’ll ever listen to you, and you won’t even trust me! No one ever does. Oh, but ‘be open!’ ‘Talk to people!’ Easy advice to give isn’t it? Why don’t you start? Tell me how you died; wouldn’t that make for a great conversation!”

Hazel looked away from him. Her lips were moving soundlessly; no words coming out. She shut them forcefully, but couldn’t stop what was happening: the confession would force its way out, if she wanted to or not. She looked close to crying.

The outburst had left Nico drained. As his anger burned down slowly, he came back to his senses. How could he yell at her? He knew better than anyone what it was like to have to keep some things secret. Hazel – she understood, and now he was hurting her for it. With a rush of guilt, he realized what he was doing.

In an impulsive moment, he reached out for her, but his hand just passed through the mist. “You don’t have to answer.” he rushed to tell her.

Hazel’s eyes jumped up, flashing, and for the first time, she looked angry. “Yes, I do; and you know that. Listen to me; you’re _not_ cruel or uncaring, but you act like you are, and that’s so stupid; _you’re_ so…”

Nico didn’t hear the rest of it. The image of Hazel flickered, like a badly tuned TV. Other images appeared before his eyes: a flat in New Orleans; a tall, regal man in a billowing robe; a woman, looking like an older Hazel, frowning down at him. She spoke, and it was in a sleepy, slow voice that didn’t sound like it should come out of that mouth. “Pack your things, girl! You two will leave. Now.”

Then the spook was over and Nico was only looking at Hazel’s wide eyes. He stumbled back a step, not sure what he had just seen.

“I’m sorry.” Hazel whispered.

“Not- not your fault.” Nico got out. His head hurt. He usually knew better than to delve too deep into a ghost’s memory. But this – this was something else. The memories were vivid; like that woman could have reached out and grasped him by the throat. That was the threatening feeling he had gotten from her presence, and a shudder went through him when he realized that wherever that malice had come from, it had been directed at Hazel. “Was that – your mother?”

Hazel nodded brokenly. Her anger had gone, replaced by the deep sadness that Nico had glimpsed before. Only this time, _he_ was the cause. At least part of it. He felt like a monster.

He knelt in front of her, trying to catch her eye. “I’m so sorry, Hazel. I didn’t mean anything of that, I just – lost control.” It was a hard thing to admit for him: self-control was what had kept him alive until now. “You never have to talk to me about anything you don’t want to, okay?”

Their eyes met. Hazel blinked. Then, slowly, she nodded. A split second image of the woman flashed in Nico’s mind, and he shook his head forcefully to dispel it. His sister’s emotions were still in turmoil; she had no firm control over what memories would rise to the surface.  But when she spoke again, it was surprisingly strong. Her voice only quivered slightly. “She was always angry with me.” the admission spilled from her lips. “My mom. My father promised her anything she wanted, and she wished for his wealth. That’s why I attract riches. B-but it didn’t work. She hated me. It’s a curse; to anyone who touches it. Called me a poisoned child…”

“But why…” Nico corrected himself, “ _What_ was that voice?” It had not sounded human in the slightest.

“The Voice.” His sister shivered, from a cold she couldn’t feel. “She possessed her… She tortured her. She k-killed…”

“Who did that to you?!” Nico knew he was strafing into dangerous territory here. Hazel’s memories were powerful; so powerful that he risked getting sucked into them. But the Voice had sounded like a monster, and more than likely it was still out there. And looking at his sister now, Nico had a very strong urge to find it and kill it.

Suddenly, Hazel looked scared. “I can’t talk about her.” she said. “If I tell you, she’ll find out. She’ll hurt you, too.”

“Hazel, we’re in our father’s realm here.” Nico tried to calm her down. “Whatever possessed your mother, it has no power here.”

Hazel shivered. Her eyes were wide and frightened as she glanced around at the cave walls. “No. This is _her_ realm. And she is going to wake soon; she told me.”

“ _Who_ told you?”

“The Voice. The woman in the earth.” Hazel’s eyes went blank. “She used me to – to…”

And within a second, the Fields of Asphodel vanished around Nico; a glowing, wet cave somewhere far to the north taking their place.


	4. Child of Pluto, Child of Hades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nico's warning falls on deaf ears, and he decides to take a big risk.

The giant doors of Hades‘ throne room burst open. A small, pale boy marched inside; his stride speaking of urgency. He didn’t so much as glance at the skeleton guards with their imposing army issue rocket launchers.

“Father!” he called out. “I need to speak to you!”

The two gods on their thrones turned their heads; hands raised in different states of agitation. They seemed to have just interrupted a heated debate.

“Nico. Lower your voice, please; your father is unwell.” That was Persephone.

“Nonsense!” Hades’ deep voice boomed through the hall, seeping with annoyance. He waved his wife away briskly. “I’m fine, woman! Just a little upsetting. Must have been your mother’s blasted oat cakes again. I swear; one day she and her ‘gluten-free food’ will be the death of – arghh!”

The god of the underworld bent over on his throne. His face twisted as if in pain, as his form started to shimmer and change. For half-a heartbeat, a tall, regally dressed man sat in his place, looking around in confusion. Then the hall rumbled angrily and Hades reappeared in his black robes. He looked ruffled, and not at all amused.

“Half-Bloods!” he shouted, shaking his fist at the ceiling. “What are you doing up there?!”

“Father! I need to talk to you!” Nico persisted, trying to ignore what had just happened – even though he was pretty sure he’d just seen Pluto, his father’s Roman aspect. _Hazel’s father_ … That shouldn’t happen. On the spot, Nico decided it would perhaps be wise not to mention her name. “You have to act; urgently. A ghost has given me a warning. There’s a danger to you and all of Olympus, possibly.”

“There’s always some danger to Olympus.” Hades waved him away. But the gesture held only a fraction of his usual impatience. In fact; Hades himself just looked like a fraction of himself, now that Nico looked at him closely. Even the mad fire that always burned in his eyes seemed almost dull. The god shook his head, in the way of someone who was slowly losing control of a situation and knowing it. “We have greater problems at the moment. Someone has stolen my Death!”

Nico blinked. “Your – what?”

“Thanatos!” Hades fumed. “He’s gone. He’s not patrolling my borders anymore. Things won’t die properly!”

Nico blinked in surprise, then swallowed. What Hades had just said should have sent alarm bells going off in his head, but instead the first thing he felt was disappointment. _Had this happened a few months sooner_ … Was he obsessed for thinking first of the chance this would have been for Bianca before the problems that the god’s absence would cause? Probably. What he certainly was, though, was absentminded. Nico felt like hitting himself: As Hades’ son, he _needed_ to have noticed this earlier. It was his responsibility to keep an eye on that his father’s realm worked smoothly. _But no; you’ve been too busy chasing the fantasy of a normal life, haven’t you?_

With this news of Thanatos, the strange behaviour of the monsters he’d encountered finally made sense. They’d been acting more confident for a while now. Worryingly, none of them seemed to care when he killed them, and at one point he could have sworn he’d run into the same batch of Cyclopes several times. Now he was pretty sure he had. Over his conversations with Hazel, he hadn’t really spent much time thinking about it. He really needed to stop and get his head back in the present.

“Do you have any ideas who could have done this?” he asked his father now. Just after he’d asked the question, an answer popped into his head, but he immediately dismissed it. Surely she couldn’t be that powerful yet, could she?

“If I had, they’d be in here screaming for mercy by now.” Hades growled.

“Let’s not overreact.” Persephone chimed in. “Who knows; there might be a harmless explanation for Thanatos’ absence. Maybe he’s just taken the week off.”

The god of the underworld slowly turned to her, speaking with barely controlled patience: “Thanatos has never abandoned his post. He knows his responsibility. The only time he didn’t perform his duties was when that upstart Sisyphus tricked and chained him. Somebody must have done it again. And once I find that somebody; I swear I will think up a much worse fate for them than Sisyphus’!”

Nico glanced out the balcony, beyond which the Fields of Punishment spread out for miles. He couldn’t see the tiny man rolling his boulder up the hill, but he knew he was there somewhere. A shiver went up his spine. He believed his father when he said he’d come up with a worse punishment. Still, he didn’t think the matter would be quite so easy.

If his theory was right; how did one punish the earth itself?

“Father,“ he started again, not meeting the angry god’s eyes to avoid the manic fire, “I will do what I can to find and free Death. But we may have a much larger problem…”

“Father?!” and indignant voice interrupted. It sounded almost like Hades’, but with a sharper edge to it; and more authority behind the word. “Who are you calling father here, boy? In fact; who are you and what are you doing in my throne room?!”

Nico turned back to the dais and found himself face to face with Pluto. Hades was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Persephone. The Roman god had stepped down from his throne, his long ornamental clothes billowing around him like mist. He was towering over Nico. His features were sharper and more pronounced than Hades’, but his eyes held the same mad fire.

Nico swallowed thickly. There were too many things happening at once. Somehow, he was losing track of this situation. “Lord Pluto.” he said hastily. “I’m so sorry. I am Nico; Lord Hades’ son.”

His address to the god was a lot more formal than anything Nico had used in years. He was on uncertain ground here. His father’s two personalities seemed to be more at odds than he’d thought. _Though still just as irascible_. He sincerely hoped the Roman god remembered him in some form, at least; otherwise he might well end up leaving through the five-storey high balcony.

Pluto considered him for a long moment. His sharp expression twisted into a frown. “I suppose there must be some merit to what you say. Otherwise, I’d have blasted you long before you reached this room. I am not fond of demigods.”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Nico replied.

Pluto’s eyes flashed. “I’m not going to kill you for your insolence – yet.” he finally decided. “You said something of a problem. What could be important enough to risk your miserable life by coming here?”

“Yes, the problem!” Nico answered hastily. “You see; your grandmother, Gaia…”

“ARGH!”

Suddenly, Hades was back in the god’s form. He immediately started pacing and cursing – by the looks of it, at himself. “Will you stay away, you wolf-bred waster! No one asked for your presence!”

He twisted back into Pluto, who took up the argument without wasting a breath. “My presence is sorely needed, by the looks of things here! Look at the run-down state of this place, you stingy hoarder!”

Nico could only stare at what was happening in front of him; for the first time in his life completely dumbfounded. He raised his hand tentatively. “Excuse me…”

“Stop meddling!” both gods shouted at once. The hall rumbled. A crack appeared in the black onyx beneath their feet.

Nico decided it was in his best interest to make a quiet retreat.

* * *

 

“They were just – changing back and forth?” Hazel inquired, looking as puzzled as Nico felt.

“Yes. I’ve never seen that happen.” Nico was sitting next to her, hugging his knees. The encounter had shaken him more than he was willing to admit. Let’s face it; he didn’t particularly like his father, but until now the god had always seemed in control, at least. More controlled than most other Olympian gods, even. Now, though, he evidently wasn’t. And considering his sphere of influence, this new erratic behaviour was extremely unsettling.

Especially now, after what Hazel showed him. What Nico had seen in his sister’s memory terrified him. They were dealing with a power more ancient than even Hades, and probably much more malevolent. Granted, Nico didn’t know much of the myths about Gaia, the earth goddess; just that she was the mother of the titans. But that voice in the cave, and the stone spire erupting from it, sent a cold shiver down his spine. She had killed Hazel, even asleep. His hands clenched into fists. What would she do if she was awake?

Unbidden, his Mythomagic knowledge made itself heard again. What it contributed now didn’t reassure him: aside from the titans ad the gods, he remembered there being a Gaia card in the game. It had an insane amount of hit points. And when it was played, the match was instantly over.

Hazel spoke up again. “Maybe you should stop seeing me. I might be the cause of all that.” She was wearing a look of guilt.

Nico laughed humourlessly. “Don’t say that. I doubt that us just talking could have that effect on a god. Besides; you might be the one sane person I have left.”

“But I’m dead! I –“ Hazel broke off. She lowered her eyes. “I don’t want you to go, Nico, but you can’t keep visiting me. I think father needs you, and you need someone alive; not me.”

Nico didn’t answer. He rolled her words over in his mind.

_I’m dead._

_Thanatos._

_Bianca…_

As the pieces swirled around and connected, Nico looked at his ghostly, sad sister (when had he started referring to her like that?), who wouldn’t meet his eyes. The idea had been there before; possibly since the moment she told him that Bianca was gone. Hazel wasn’t her, but just like his actual sister she didn’t deserve to die. She was caring and still so full of energy, and she might have been the only thing that kept him sane. If he couldn’t bring Bianca back…

It was stupid. It wouldn’t work, now that Hades knew that Death wasn’t working anymore. He’d have all the exits sealed. And even if by some stroke of chance it _did_ work; his father – or Pluto; it didn’t really matter which – would be utterly mad at him and probably undo everything; take her right back.

But life owed him.

Nico jumped to his feet. “Come on.” he told Hazel.

She looked up at him, not understanding. “What? Where are we going?”

“Just follow me.”

“Nico, I can’t leave this place.”

“I am the son of Hades, and I say you can.” Nico took a deep breath and met her eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Hazel looked at him for a long time. Then she nodded. “I do.”

 _Two so simple words._ “Then come.” Nico insisted, starting to walk. His heart throbbed anxiously. How long had it been since somebody had really trusted him? His resolve doubled at that thought. He would make this work; for her. His eyes fixed on the distant cave wall that marked the edge of the underworld.

Somewhere in the black rock, he knew, was a passage to the surface world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we're getting to the part that started this story. It would help a lot if I got some feedback on this: I think what i'm writing here makes sense in terms of the story and character-wise, but I'm not entirely sure. Let me know what you think.


	5. The Orpheus Ascent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way up is a lot harder than down, especially for a child of the underworld.

* * *

„GRRRRRRRR!“

The growl reverberated through the underworld; a long, low, frightening sound that put any hellhound to shame. Up close, it could probably have swept a man clean off his feet. A few dozen yards away, it still made the teeth rattle in Nico’s head.

“Hey, big guy!” he called. “It’s alright; it’s just me. Remember me?”

Cerberus’ three heads stopped growling when he recognized his master’s son, immediately replaced by hopeful curiosity. He gave a cheerful (triple) bark, and would have probably bounded for the demigod in delight, if that hadn’t meant leaving his post at the gates. Dutiful dog that he was, he stayed where he sat; right between the queues of waiting ghosts.

So far, so bad. Because as much as Nico hated dog saliva on his face, distracting the big guy had kind of been what he’d been hoping for.

He glanced over his shoulder at Hazel. His sister had turned back into a faceless ghost, which was good for the moment while they were trying to get out, but also meant Nico had no way of knowing what she was thinking. He thought her pace had slowed down considerably. With Cerberus right ahead, he couldn’t really blame her.

Nico put on his best Lord-of-the-underworld-Junior face and walked up to the gates. “I am on a mission for my father. Taking this ghost with me is required.” he told Cerberus. The dog was the main problem here. Nico didn’t bother addressing the guard ghosts: if necessary, he could just force them to back down.

The giant animal tilted his two outer heads to the side. The middle one wore a look that looked like surprise. It wasn’t every day that a dead person was supposed to pass him in the opposite direction.

Apparently further encouragement was needed. Nico reached up to stroke the closest of the dog’s snouts. That never failed to overjoy Mrs O’Leary, and it seemed to have the same effect on Cerberus: he gave a deep hum, and a loud ‘ **Boom, Boom, Boom** ’ echoed from behind him – his tail hitting the ground repeatedly. Nico dreaded to imagine how many ghosts he was crushing right now. But at least he wasn’t looking at Hazel anymore.

 _No turning back now_. “Come on.” he called over his shoulder, while Cerberus’ two outer heads tried to butt the middle one out of the way to get their share of cuddles.

They passed the gates unmolested, without any warning cries ringing out. The dead marching in the other direction threw them blank looks, but none of them seemed to question it. Only Cerberus’ pitiful whine echoed behind them as he watched his little owner disappear into the distance.

The queue of the dead was just a small speck in the distance anymore before Nico allowed himself to slow down. He had to remind himself to start breathing normally again. His heart was beating like he’d just run a marathon. Up ahead, he could just make out a set of rough, black stone steps leading up into the cave wall.

They’d gotten away with it!

Hazel wasn’t sharing his elation, once he summoned her again.

“Nico, where are we?!” Her voice was full of alarm.

“Out. It’s only a little further.” he reassured her.

“No!” Hazel refused to move. Her ghostly face had turned even paler than usual. “I know what you’re doing. You can’t. We just can’t. I’m meant to be down here!”

“No, you’re not. And I’m the son of Hades. I can do anything.”

“You can’t bring me back!” She was beginning to sound panicked.

“You didn’t deserve to die, Hazel! See it as a second chance.”

She backed away from him, shaking her head frantically. “You don’t understand! I’m meant to be dead! I’ve caused nothing but misery to everyone around me! Sammy. My mother… I can’t risk that happening again…”

“Listen to me: everything that happened; it wasn’t your fault, okay?” Nico insisted, irritated. He gestured towards the steps. “If this works, you could breathe again; see the sun again. Don’t you want that?”

“I – yes; of course I do! But – Nico, I’m cursed. Father knows, too; he said so. I didn’t want you to know… Bad things happen to those around me. Always.” She cast down her eyes. “To you, too.”

Nico chuckled. “A little more misfortune would do me no harm, trust me. I-“ He broke off when he saw the pale shimmer of tears in her eyes. Hazel seemed to physically grow smaller; turning away and burying her face in her arms.

Nico wasn’t good at comforting people. He tried to think of something to say. “I’ll take you to the Empire State Building.” he offered.

Hazel looked up from her feet and met his eyes uncertainly.

Nico pushed on: “Right to the very top. You’ll see New York, and feel the wind. And I promise you; I will protect you. From my father and from your curse, too. We’ll find a way to lift it.”

“You – you really think so?”

He nodded. “Yes, I do.” And if he had to call in every favour from every person he ever met, he decided in that moment, he would find a way.

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought his sister’s expression held the slightest touch of hope. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

Hazel’s eyes lingered on him for a long moment. Then they wandered to the stairwell behind him.  Her nod was abrupt, like she wanted to agree before she could change her mind. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Nico agreed.

Only a few yards further, they reached the wall. The steps hewn into it spiralled upwards into the darkness, so far up that Nico lost track of them. A small sliver of doubt crossed his mind.

He turned back to Hazel. “Just follow me.” he said imploringly. “Whatever happens; you must promise to follow me.”

“Promise. I’ll do as you say.”

Nico breathed out deeply and faced the steps. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

 

The steps were steep and narrow, the path twisting and winding upwards irregularly; like its builder hadn’t known what he was making or where he wanted it to come out. Which was very close to the truth, Nico knew.

Memories washed over him. He had come this way once before, but in the opposite direction, and with very different company. That one hadn’t shut up the entire descent, and as much as Nico was usually annoyed by that trait of Percy’s; now he was secretly wishing he were here. Now the ascent was far too quiet. Nico had always felt safer when the son of Poseidon was around.

He squared his jaw and pushed the thought away, climbing the steps at a faster pace. He had gotten used to getting by on his own years ago. Percy and his prattling would have only distracted him.

Even though he could have really used a good distraction at the moment.

Behind Nico, there was only silence. It crept up on him; hugged his shoulders like a blanket. Hazel either couldn’t talk or wouldn’t. Perhaps she was dreading what awaited her at the top. If she was even still there, still climbing the steps behind him. What if her fear had gotten the better of her?

_No; she promised. She’s still there. Stop worrying._

How long had they been walking? Nico didn’t remember it taking this long. The climb to the surface seemed a lot longer than the descent.

 _You don’t even know how to heal her curse_ , a treacherous voice whispered inside him. _Or if it’s even possible_. _If you aren’t certain about this; how can you expect her to be? How can you expect her to trust you blindly?_

Nico almost stopped and turned around. He caught himself at the last second. Remembering.

Ever since the time he’d first heard it, the legend of Orpheus had seemed a little stupid to him. The man had managed to sing himself right to the heart of the underworld and find his beloved, only to then lose her again on the last couple of steps. If he’d just kept looking forward a few moments longer, he would have succeeded and his story wouldn’t have ended up a tragedy, used to warn young demigods of the dangers of hubris. It was such a pointless reason to fail.

Now, though, Nico was beginning to understand.

Maybe he was worrying for nothing. With Death out of the equation, who knew if the rules that had doomed the ancient singer even still applied. For all he knew, this exit from the underworld might now be just like the other, and he could get Hazel out without complication. It was a possibility. But Nico didn’t dare turn around to find out.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he didn’t notice the ghost until he was practically walking into him.

At the last second, he realized what the grey mist on the step above him was and recoiled, nearly slipping on the uneven ground. His Stygian-iron sword was in his hand without thinking.

The ghost solidified into a man in a Greek kiton. He was young, tall and probably good-looking, if one were to ignore his wounds. A million deep gashes seemed to run all across his bare torso, making him look like he’d been torn apart and then put back together after death. Some of the wounds were still weeping. From the man’s side hung a golden lyre.

“Orpheus.” Nico said, collecting himself. He had no doubt that was who this ghost was. In some way, he had expected the visit. “I know what you are going to say. Spare it. You can’t stop me.”

The heros’ look was one of deep sadness. When he lowered his head, the sparse light fell away from his face; obscuring the weeping wounds and highlighting soft, boyish features. He was a lot younger than Nico had first thought; barely older than him. “I know, son of Hades. But I will speak anyway. You must know that you cannot save the one you love.”

Nico resisted the urge to turn around and look for Hazel. “I don’t love her.” he stated. “She is my sister. And she didn’t deserve to die. _Love_ has nothing to do with it.”

“I think it does. There is more than one kind of love.” the ghost said. “As I’m sure you know.”

Nico’s face hardened. His hands clenched into fists and he raised the sword at the other’s chest. “Get out of my way!”

Orpheus shrank before the dark, cold metal. He shook his head sadly. “I’m trying to spare you, young hero. Reversing death – it doesn’t work how you may think.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, but something about his tone made Nico stop. He faltered, his sword still raised. “What do you mean? Explain yourself.”

“The legend never mentions what my Eurydike saw when we neared the surface, does it?” Orpheus’ face had a bitter look; the same emotion echoing in his words. “I will tell you. We could see the light, and I rejoiced. But she… her soul strived to stay in the underworld – in her memories – even while her body took shape again. One moment she was with the living, and the next with the dead. It tore her apart; body and mind. Once- once we make the journey into the earth, we are not meant to come back.” His dead eyes seemed to pierce Nico right to his heart. “Eurydike screamed at me to let her go and let her have peace, and I couldn’t hear. Even had I led her to the surface, it would have been a half-life; do you understand that, son of Hades? I was so fixated on bringing her back that I didn’t see.”

Nico shook his head. “You’re wrong. I- _I_ know more about death than you ever will.” he ground out. “I know about death; and I know about loss; better than you think. I am the Ghost King.”

The name echoed in the tunnel; holding more menace and power than Cerberus’ growl. Not at all sounding like the scared 14-year-old who had uttered it. Not that it mattered. Down here, any dead had to obey it.

Orpheus sighed. It sounded resigned. “I can see that is true. Loss and death are your true companions. They blind you to reason.” His form started to shimmer and fade. “Perhaps you should learn about life, instead. You’ll find it is better company to keep. But also so, so much more fragile.”

He disappeared before Nico had the chance to reply.

Nico sheathed his sword – or tried to. His hands were shaking. He clenched his fingers tightly. “Come on!” he called over his shoulder.

He didn’t know whether his sister could hear him. He just knew that he couldn’t look. He couldn’t look, and he couldn’t turn back; no matter how Orpheus’ words may have shaken him. He couldn’t lose her.

Not again.

After an eternity, they reached a dead end. A pile of boulders blocked the path. The door to the surface. Nico didn’t have any music to open it; no lyre to play. What he did have was a lot of pent-up anger. He screamed it out at the rocks, and they sprang out of his way; moving aside to create a doorway.

Blinding sunlight took their place. Shielding his eyes against the harsh brightness, Nico climbed out into New York’s Central Park. He breathed in the clear air. Looked around, once his eyes had adjusted.

And recoiled.

Less than two yards away sat a monstrous she-wolf; watching him with eyes made of molten silver.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is basically the prologue. I wanted to expand a little on this relationship that we don't see too much of in the books. And it should also be a good practice for writing Nico (haven't done it before).
> 
> Not much to comment on yet, I know; but let me know what you think anyway.


End file.
